


On the Eve of History

by MoonwalkingCrab



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Creative Cures for Seasickness, Hair-pulling, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonwalkingCrab/pseuds/MoonwalkingCrab
Summary: It is the day before the peace talks begin, the ships are assembled and the Mighty Nein are in position. Caleb visits Essek to check in and finds far more than he anticipated.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 29
Kudos: 459





	On the Eve of History

The sun shines bright over the Lucidian ocean, crystal shards of light reflecting back on the gentle roll of the waves, illuminating the billowing flags and sails of the assembled ships, rocking gently in the faint breeze.

In the midst of it all, penned in by the Dynasty on one side and the Empire on the other, the Ball Eater sits at anchor, set firmly in the midst of both armadas. 

Caleb can feel the sun on the back of his neck as he gingerly steps over the gangplanks connecting their wreck of a ship to the mighty flagship of Xhorhas. On the opposite side he can see Beau doing the same thing, heading towards the Dwendalians and their equally impressive ship. She seems to sense his gaze and turns, giving a wave and a smile brimming with confidence. After so many weeks of preparing—and almost missing their own boat through one mishap or another—the peace talks will soon begin.

The rest of the Nein are dotted about the main deck, conversing, catching up with Orly and the crew. Only Jester and Nott seemed to react when Caleb mentioned checking in with the negotiation parties of each nation, sharing a glance that Caleb knows can only mean trouble—or at least embarrassment—for him later. 

He can feel his stomach waver with the next gentle roll of the waves and dashes the last few feet, boots clattering as he boards the Dynasty ship.

The crew on deck at this time of day seem to be mostly half-orcs, bugbears, and goblins. What few drow Caleb can see are cloaked against the heat of the sun, sunlight-sensitive eyes clouded by eyepieces of smoked glass. He gives a nod as he straightens up, recognising a few members of the Bright Queen’s court, though not by name.

“Good day,” Caleb says in greeting, a quick glance already confirming that the one person he most wants to see is not present. “I just wanted to check in and make sure everyone is prepared for the talks tomorrow. They will be held on the deck of our ship an hour after sundown. The Dwendalian escort has a mirror to the King’s chambers, am I to trust you have the same for the Bright Queen?”

“We do,” says a tall female half-orc, the gleam of her breastplate in the high sun nearly blinding Caleb. “Any other preparations we need will be passed on. You don’t have to check on us.”

Caleb falters. “Ah, yes, of course.” He squints towards the steps that lead below deck. “May I ask if Shadowhand Essek is in attendance?” There is a tightness in Caleb’s stomach, he already knows the answer. Jester confirmed two nights ago that Essek would be joining them. Caleb knows he shouldn’t have asked, but the twisting in his gut that has been present since they last parted was almost too much to bear. Jester hasn’t said anything, but he can tell by the gleam in her eyes the exact direction her thoughts have turned.

_“He says he’ll be happy to see us, but I think he’ll be happiest to see you, Caleb.”_

The guard gives a curt nod. “Shadowhand Essek is in his quarters, he has requested that he not be disturbed”—Caleb feels his stomach sink at the words—“unless one of your party asked for him.” She raises an eyebrow at Caleb, tone shifting to something slightly more companionable. “You guys must be something impressive if even the Shadowhand wants to see you.”

Caleb feels his nose wrinkle and he shrugs. “ _Ja_ , well, we are nothing special, just friends of Essek.” He can see the half-orc’s lip twitch up—as if the mere thought of _the Shadowhand_ having friends is something ridiculous—and something fiery stirs in his gut. Caleb quickly hides his frown, schooling his face into a pleasant smile. “Anyway, can you show me where he is?”

The guard nods, leading him below deck, another guard immediately taking her place, glaring out across the glimmering waves towards the Dwendalian armada. Caleb can feel the tension in the air, though there is the faint stir of something more—something that feels like hope.

Below deck is much the same as the Ball Eater, though on a grander scale. Far more drow are up and about down here beneath the dim timbers it seems, going about their duties in the relative shade. Caleb is led through a corridor, to the far end of what he presumes to be the main living quarters. The scent of warm wood fills his nostrils, familiar and homey, the timbers of the walls the same shade of purple as those in the Xhorhaus. The guard stops at the final door and nods her head. “I shall announce you.”

“Oh no, no need for that,” Caleb says, quickly pulling a length of wire from his pockets and bringing it to his lips, pointing towards the door. He glances up at the guard as he says, voice clear, “Shadowhand Essek, this is Caleb Widogast of the Mighty Nein, we had a few things to discuss with you, are you free to talk?” He winces slightly at the pretense of formality. Really there is nothing to say. He just knows that he has to see Essek.

“Caleb? Shit!” The reply comes directly into Caleb’s ears and there is a scuffling noise behind the door. “One moment please.”

Caleb can feel the tinge of a smile on his lips and turns to the half-orc. “He’s on his way.”

The guard nods, folding her arms and leaning against the wall. “I’ll wait here while you talk.”

After a few more seconds, and a few more scrapes and scuffles, the door opens just a little and Caleb can see the pale gleam of Essek’s eyes. His tousled hair falls loose over his forehead, devoid of whatever product usually styles it. Concern rises in Caleb's stomach as he takes in what little he can see. More than anything, Essek looks tired.

Essek clears his throat, and Caleb can see the faint lines etched into the delicate skin of his face, creasing over his forehead. Below that, darker circles only just visible on already dark skin rim Essek's eyes. “Caleb, how nice of you to visit, come in,” Essek says, his voice belying none of the tiredness Caleb can see. He glances out, seeing the guard at his door and waving a hand in dismissal. “Thank you, Zarrah, that will be all, you can return to your post.” He ushers Caleb in, closing the door behind them without waiting for Zarrah’s reply.

It is only now that Caleb gets a good look at Essek, who clearly was not expecting visitors. He looks exhausted, haggard even, dressed in what Caleb thinks might just be pyjamas. The Shadowhand mantle hangs over a chair beside a small desk, books and papers piled high next to an engraved casket that thrums with magical energy—the Queen’s mirror, Caleb presumes. The room is dim and Caleb blinks, vision failing him.

“Oh, yes, let me fix that.” Essek says, clearly seeing Caleb’s reaction to the dark. He waves a hand and the familiar globules of Dancing Lights flare into existence around them, a pale, flickering lavender flame. “I’m sorry I’m not more prepared to meet you.” His gaze is at his bare feet, a rueful half-smile on his face. “It seems the sea does not quite agree with me.”

Caleb smiles, chancing to place his hand on Essek’s shoulder and giving a faint squeeze that sets his stomach fluttering. “I was the same the first time I travelled on a ship. It can be tough, but you get used to it after a while.”

“Still,” Essek says, combing the unruly waves of his hair from his forehead with his fingers, “I am an official dignitary, meeting with another, I should be better than _this_.” He sweeps his hand down himself. “Please forgive me.”

Caleb shakes his head, unable to stop the flare of fondness that lights him from the inside out. “I am not a dignitary right now,” he says, holding Essek’s gaze. “I am a friend, concerned for another friend’s wellbeing.” He smiles. “I came over here because I wanted to ask how you have been. I know we don’t check in with you often enough when we travel.” He doesn’t mention how often his thoughts turn to Essek when they do.

Essek’s brows arch in surprise before he seems to sag, relaxing at least a fraction. He sits on the edge of the narrow cot that must serve as his bed. “It has been a tiring few weeks,” he says, gesturing for Caleb to sit as well. “This is something that will change history”—his lip quirks up—”which I know we both have an interest in, though maybe not by these exact means.” He stretches, shoulders rolling beneath what Caleb now realises is extremely thin cotton. He can see the sharp lines of Essek’s collarbones and wets his lips without thinking, electric heat suddenly surging through him.

Essek’s brows crease as he continues, listing his woes, “If the seasickness wasn’t enough, there is the sun to contend with, which is inconvenient at the least,” he glances towards Caleb, “and I see you are as used to the heat as I am.”

Caleb glances down at himself; his usual layers have been greatly reduced in the humidity of the Lucidian Ocean, leaving him in just his undershirt and breeches. He nods, glancing back up to catch Essek’s eyes on his body, a faint gleam of _something_ sending a shiver down Caleb’s spine. Inhaling deeply, he tries to pull himself together. The heat must be muddying his mind, making him imagine things.

The ship rolls slightly, the room seeming to rise and fall in a slow wave. Essek groans, curling in on himself and burying his face in his hands. “This is awful,” he mumbles, “how am I supposed to present the Queen tomorrow when I can barely stand straight?”

Caleb reaches out, wanting to pat Essek on the shoulder before reconsidering, pulling his hand back. He doesn't want to overstep, much as Essek looks like he needs comforting “The, uh, floating doesn’t help?”

Essek shakes his head, a small shiver running through him. “That makes it worse. I am in one place and everything else is moving around me, it turns my stomach.” He turns to Caleb. “What helped you get used to it?”

Caleb thinks back, the memories of his first time on the sea tinged with old fear. “Well,” he says, “we were in the company of pirates and cultists, so the distraction certainly helped keep my mind off things. Caduceus made some teas, too. I can always ask if he has any left?”

Essek nods, though Caleb can tell by his expression that he is thinking about something else. “Yes, that could work,” he says, mostly to himself, before turning back to Caleb. “I must admit, my studies have not done much to keep me distracted.” He inches a fraction closer and Caleb can see the trembling in his hands. “I wonder if there is some other...activity that might help?” His gaze is fixed on the scant space between them, a look of faint hopefulness in his eyes. 

The temperature in the small cabin seems to be rising and Caleb swallows against the sudden dryness in his mouth. There is a coiling sensation inside him, a tension that is all too close to breaking. He glances at Essek’s face and feels his stomach flip; even tired and ill and unkempt, Essek is still breathtaking.

“Did you have a particular...activity in mind?” Caleb says, pushing away his fears and sliding his hand atop Essek’s own. “I’d be happy to help you.”

The statement hangs there, out in the open, and it takes everything Caleb has not to turn and run.

Essek’s breath catches and he leans in closer, intently studying Caleb's face, searching for a deception that Caleb knows he will not find. His free hand slides up Caleb’s knee, squeezing slightly.

Essek's face is more open and honest than Caleb has ever seen him, the faintest hint of fear visible in his eyes. His voice is low when he murmurs, “You should know, when it comes to you, Caleb Widogast, I want far more than a momentary distraction.”

Caleb pushes a loose white strand behind one long ear, tracing over the pointed tip. “ _You_ should know, Essek Thelyss, that I never do anything half-heartedly.” He leans in, closing the distance to bring their lips together in a kiss that has them both sighing.

It starts slow, tentative, a gentle brush, a simple caress of lips against lips. Caleb can feel Essek’s hand tighten on his knee and slides his fingers down, tracing one sharp cheekbone, gently stroking at the line of Essek’s jaw. There is a lightness inside him, as if the high stakes of the next few days are a million miles away. All there is, here and now, is Essek, and the insistent press of his lips. 

With a groan of satisfaction, Caleb parts his mouth, feeling Essek’s fingers squeezing tight at his own. He pulls him closer, wrapping his arms around Essek’s neck, trying to convey his own sincerity with every kiss. The faint points of Essek’s teeth scrape over his lower lip, his tongue quickly following, sweeping over the faintly chapped skin. Caleb can feel the heat building inside his body and slides his tongue out to meet Essek’s own, craving the taste of him.

Essek responds with enthusiasm, his hands gripping tight on Caleb’s collar as he shifts himself. Their lips part for the barest of instants and a whine catches in Caleb’s throat as Essek swings a leg over his knees, settling in his lap before dipping down to tangle their tongues together once more. 

Slim fingers weave into the length of Caleb’s hair, tilting his head upwards to deepen the kiss. There is a faint tug at Caleb’s scalp, the sensation sending a thrill through him, the slight sting at odds with the soft, languid kisses. He can feel the vibration of Essek’s groan in his chest, palms flat on his spine. One hand slides lower, pausing at the small of Essek’s back, just above the hem of his shirt. 

The heat is still rising in the small cabin and Caleb can feel the warmth of Essek’s skin beneath the thin cloth of his shirt. He wants to touch so badly that the thought burns him. Essek still has him by the hair, tongue sliding against Caleb’s own in a way that makes his toes curl, desire quickly rising through his body in a heady rush that is almost dizzying. He pulls back, seeing a faint pout on Essek’s full lips before he presses back in, tongue running over the pulse in Essek’s throat, open-mouthed kisses trailing downwards towards those infuriatingly tempting collarbones.

Essek makes a noise that could almost be a chuckle, cut off as Caleb’s teeth scrape over his skin and he arches back with an indrawn breath, thighs tightening either side of Caleb’s hips. “Oh,” he murmurs, “that feels good.” He slides his hands beneath the collar of Caleb’s shirt, fingers dancing over the skin of his shoulders and all the old scars that cover them. His breath catches again as Caleb pulls him closer, pressing against him in a way that leaves no doubt as to how much he is enjoying this.

“ _Oh_ ,” Essek says again, pulling back with a smirk that is all too familiar, one eyebrow raised. He grinds down, deliberately slow, and Caleb can feel an answering hardness pressed against his stomach. Essek takes his head in his hands, pulling Caleb in for a kiss that is far softer, far slower than any they have shared so far. “Caleb,” he murmurs when they finally part, breathless, “no matter what happens at the treaty tomorrow, you should know that I am on _your_ side. No one else's.”

Caleb’s heart clenches in his chest and he holds Essek close, resting their foreheads together, eyes closed against the weight of emotion he can feel welling up inside him. “We will make peace, I am sure of it.”

“And if we don’t?” Essek’s voice is low, but steady, his fingers combing through Caleb’s hair, loosened from its tie. “We fight?”

Caleb shifts, choosing to focus on Essek pressed against him instead of the heavy weight of responsibility in his stomach. “I don’t want to think about what happens if we don’t,” he replies honestly. “I can only trust that everyone out there wants to end this war as much as we do.”

“Mm,” says Essek with another slow roll of his hips, a teasing smile creeping over his face. “There _are_ far more interesting things in life to focus on.”

“Let me focus on you, then.” Caleb whispers, bringing their lips together. He slides a hand beneath Essek’s shirt, stroking up his spine to feel every ridge beneath his fingertips. There is a softness to his skin, smooth and unmarred by scars, hot beneath Caleb’s touch.

Essek sighs as Caleb’s hands map the muscles of his back, his own fingertips still lightly scraping over Caleb’s scalp. He rocks down, smiling against Caleb’s mouth as he hisses in a breath. 

They are pressed tightly together, heat rising with every movement and Caleb is suddenly keenly aware of the layers that keep their skin from touching. The desire to feel Essek against him is almost overwhelming; Caleb has shied away from touch for so long, slowly opening up to his friends, and now it feels as if a dam has burst. He needs to touch, he needs to feel. 

He needs Essek.

Essek seems to shiver as Caleb pushes his shirt upwards, fingers tightening in Caleb’s hair before he reluctantly lets go, raising his arms. Caleb has only a moment to admire the expanse of dark skin he has revealed and then Essek’s eager fingers are working at his own clothes. There is a bright fervour in his eyes that Caleb has only seen turned on spellwork so far. It thrills him to think that all that focus is now turned entirely on him. He shrugs his shirt from his shoulders, tossing it aside, needing Essek in his arms again.

Caleb is not a strong man, but Essek is an easy weight when he lifts him from his lap. His kiss-swollen lips curve in a gentle smile as Caleb lays him on the bed, coming to rest above him, heart a steady flutter in his chest. Essek runs his fingers over Caleb’s chest, teeth scraping his lower lip as he buries his fingers in the patch of hair there. He glances up at Caleb, eyes shining almost silver in the pale purple light that still dances around them. Their eyes meet and they move in the same instant, hot breath mingling in a kiss that takes Caleb’s breath away. He straddles Essek’s waist, rocking back against the hard line that curves against his backside, still not quite believing this is actually happening.

“Caleb,” Essek murmurs against his lips, hands sliding up his sides to reach his chest once more. He circles one nipple with his thumb, arching up a little when Caleb’s fingers stroke over the point of his ear.

“This is sensitive?” Caleb asks, repeating the motion. He shifts up, deliberately grinding against Essek’s cock, bringing his lips to his ear and running his tongue up the length.

The effect is instantaneous. Essek arches, a deep groan in his throat, his body shaking in a full-body tremor. His hands drop to Caleb’s hips as he pants out a strained, “ _Yes_.”

 _Interesting._ Caleb thinks, and, ever the researcher, repeats the motion, tonguing over the point of Essek’s ear, triumph bursting inside him as Essek moans, rocking up against his hips. He smiles to himself, working his way lower, nipping lightly at the lobe of Essek’s ear and feeling fingers tighten hard enough to bruise on his hips.

Essek’s skin is warm beneath his lips, his pulse steady as Caleb kisses down the column of his neck, tongue dipping into the hollow of his throat and tasting the faint tang of salt-sweat skin. Essek’s fingers return to his hair, alternating between stroking and grabbing, every faint tug sending sparks straight to Caleb’s core. He props himself on his elbows, taking a moment to admire the sight spread out beneath him.

Essek’s dark skin is flushed almost purple at his ears and over his cheeks, small bruises of the same colour faintly visible where Caleb’s teeth have found his neck. His hair is a mess of sweat-damp waves, his chest heaving with every speeding breath. Caleb wets his lips, taking one dark nipple between his fingers and giving a gentle tug that has Essek hissing something in Undercommon that Caleb doesn’t understand. He dips down, replacing his fingers with his lips, circling the little peak with his tongue and drawing it into his mouth. Essek moans something else, his voice breaking; though Caleb doesn't know the words, the tone of _want_ is easy enough to understand. 

Caleb resolves to learn Undercommon as soon as possible. 

He kisses from one nipple to the other, trailing back up Essek’s neck to meet his lips once more. The fingers in his hair have stilled, holding him in place as Essek swirls his tongue into Caleb’s mouth, their matching groans mingling as they rock together.

When they finally break apart, there is a softness in Essek’s expression that makes Caleb’s heart twist in his chest.

“How are you feeling now?” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over the faint lines that crease the sides of Essek’s eyes.

Essek takes his hand, bringing it to his lips and brushing a kiss over the rough skin of Caleb’s knuckles. “You have certainly helped in distracting me.” His other hand slides lower, reaching between Caleb’s legs to cup at the hard line of his cock. “I wonder what I can do for you?”

Caleb wets his lips, hips involuntarily bucking into Essek’s touch. “I suppose that depends on how prepared you are,” he says, grinding back against Essek’s own erection. “I have a few things in mind that would keep you _very_ distracted indeed.”

Essek’s nose wrinkles, a flicker of disappointment flashing across his flushed face. “I’m afraid I have none of those sort of supplies. I didn’t think anything like this would happen on this trip—or at all, If I am honest. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same.” His gaze softens. “Maybe once all this is over and we are back in Rosohna we will have more time to figure”—he threads their fingers together—“ _this_ out.”

Caleb nods, squeezing tight at Essek’s hand. “You’re right, we can take our time together when we get home.” His stomach flutters with excitement. It is the first time he has voiced the thought of Rosohna as home. He has been so long without one. He smiles, leaning down for another deep kiss, feeling Essek’s arms curl around him. “In the meantime, though” he says when they part, “I believe my task is to distract you from being at sea.” He reaches for the waistband of Essek’s loose sleep pants, tented beneath his fingertips in a hard, hot line.

Essek groans, rocking his hips up to brush against Caleb’s hand. “Caleb, at this point we could be back at that damned volcano of yours and I wouldn’t notice.” He sighs in relief as Caleb strips the last layer of clothes from him, propping himself up on his elbows to watch Caleb’s next move.

Caleb wastes no time in nuzzling against Essek’s stomach, pressing his lips to the dip of his hip and breathing deep. The musky-sweet scent of sex is steadily rising, heady enough to taste and Caleb’s cock gives a twitch at the thought. He kisses over the flat planes of Essek's stomach, tongue dipping into his navel in a brief exploration. He can feel Essek’s cock, hot against his skin, flushed a deep purple that, bizarrely, puts Caleb in mind of the Rosohna skies. He trails his lips over the barely-there white fuzz that encircles the base of Essek’s shaft before taking it in hand and running his tongue over the length.

Essek sighs in relief when Caleb’s lips wrap around him, one hand coming down to comb through Caleb’s hair in a gesture that feels oddly soothing. Caleb closes his eyes, lapping over the head of Essek’s cock before bobbing his head down, hollowing his cheeks.

The weight of Essek’s cock on his tongue is enough to make Caleb groan. He can feel the drag against his tongue and swallows down, his mouth watering with every pull of his lips. He is achingly hard, surreptitiously reaching for the lacings of his own trousers and loosening them off enough to slide down his hips, taking some of the pressure off his own cock.

Essek’s moans are soft, growing louder as Caleb relaxes his throat, taking him as far as he can, nose brushing against the faint scatter of pubic hair. He swallows again, bringing one hand to fondle at Essek’s balls, gently rolling in time with each bob of his head.

It is easy to fall into a rhythm, the intensity of Essek’s speeding breaths music in Caleb’s ears. He slips his tongue beneath soft foreskin, circling, and feels Essek’s grip tighten in his hair. The faint pain of each tug only spurs Caleb on, electric pleasure racing down his spine with every clench of Essek’s fingers. He speeds his movement, pressing the flat of his tongue to the underside of Essek’s cock and groaning as he tastes a faint burst of salt. Essek bucks up into the circle of Caleb’s lips, the hand in his hair guiding his movements.

Caleb can hear his name, a litany on Essek’s breath, steadily growing louder as he works Essek over, lapping and sucking, his hand coming to grip at the base of Essek’s cock, squeezing and stroking in turn. He gently rocks against the narrow mattress, the friction not enough to send him over the edge, but enough the set a steady prickle of heat running beneath Caleb’s skin. He moves in time with every thrust of Essek’s hips, every tug at his hair, lost in the motion of giving Essek everything he can. Caleb drinks in every moan, every gasp of his name, every drop of salty-sweetness that slides across his tongue. He can feel the muscles of Essek’s thighs bunching, his movements losing rhythm and he pulls hard on Caleb’s hair with a whisper of his name.

“Caleb, I’m going to—”

Caleb swallows down, a burst of self-satisfaction burning through him as Essek’s words dissolve into a drawn-out moan. He bobs his head, hand working over Essek’s length, feeling fingers clench tight in his hair. Essek’s cock feels suddenly, impossibly harder and Caleb feels a thrill of anticipation run through him, not stopping his movements for an instant.

When he comes, Essek’s moans quiet to a single whimper of Caleb’s name, his breath ragged as he spills onto Caleb’s tongue, filling his mouth with thick, hot, spurts.

Caleb swallows everything he is given, mouthing over Essek’s cock with every aftershock, only pulling off when he feels Essek start to tremble with overstimulation. He gives a final kiss to the tip of his softening cock and slides back up to see Essek looking almost stunned, his chest heaving with every breath.

Smiling to himself, Caleb shimmies out of the last of his clothes, propping himself up on his elbows to gaze at Essek’s face. A faint sheen of sweat is just visible on Essek’s skin, tinged violet in the magical light around them. He meets Caleb’s gaze and grabs his face in both hands, hauling him in for a kiss. His tongue swirls deep, as if Essek is seeking out the taste of himself in Caleb’s mouth. The sensation is enough to have Caleb groaning, his cock twitching where it is pressed between his and Essek’s stomachs. He rocks against Essek, the heat he has been holding back within himself flaring to wildfire now that Essek is satisfied.

Caleb takes ahold of his own cock, fist working at a rapid pace. The need to come is almost overwhelming, slamming into Caleb and blanking out all other thoughts. He can dimly feel Essek’s hands on his ass, slim fingers sliding between his cheeks to brush over the tight furl of his hole.

“Beautiful,” Essek breathes, pale eyes shining with something that could almost be adoration. “Let me see you, Caleb.” He urges him upwards so that Caleb is straddling his chest, working his cock under Essek’s rapt gaze. He can feel his peak rapidly approaching, coiling low in his gut with an intensity that only burns brighter with every second Essek’s eyes are on him.

A bead of precome drips from Caleb’s cock and Essek’s tongue flicks out, his breath catching. His fingers still toy around the rim of Caleb’s hole, pressing in but never breaching and it is almost enough to push Caleb over the edge. He fucks into the circle of his fist, gaze never leaving Essek’s face for an instant. With a shaky breath, he murmurs, catching Essek’s free hand with his own. “Essek.”

“What do you need, Caleb?” Essek asks, sounding almost as breathless as Caleb feels. “Tell me what you want.”

Another jolt of want, so strong it is almost painful, arcs through Caleb and he whispers with a faint sense of shame, “I want to come in your mouth.”

Essek’s eyes widen and he groans, gazing up at Caleb beneath pale lashes. “Oh gods, yes,” he murmurs, opening his mouth wide and leaning in, offering his tongue to Caleb’s cock.

Caleb braces himself on Essek’s shoulder, feeling himself reach the brink. It only takes a few more strokes before he is coming with a low groan. White hot heat races through Caleb, flooding his senses, though he cannot drag his gaze from Essek’s mouth. The ropes of his come coat Essek’s tongue in a few short bursts before Essek is bobbing his head forward, cleaning every drop his mouth did not catch and swallowing down with a smile.

With a final shudder, Caleb slumps down by Essek’s side, stretching out on the narrow cot. He can feel Essek’s arms wrap around him and smiles, tilting his head up for a slow, chaste kiss. 

They lie together in silence, breath starting to return to normal, the final tremors subsiding as they hold each other, trading soft kisses. “I wish you could stay here tonight,” Essek says, tucking Caleb’s hair back, hand lingering on his cheek.

Caleb leans into the touch, bringing Essek’s free hand to his lips. “There will be other nights,” he murmurs. “Once there is peace then we will all be a little more free.”

“Maybe I will come with you on the journey back,” Essek says. “After all, we _do_ seem to have found the cure for my seasickness.” He gives a soft smile and Caleb can’t help but kiss him.

“Maybe,” he says, “though we do have a few more stops to make.” He traces circles on Essek’s chest, feeling more at ease than he has in a long while. “Have you ever heard of Rumblecusp?”

“I know _of_ it, why go there?” Esseks fingers comb through Caleb’s hair, loosening the tangles he himself made.

“Travelercon, apparently,” Caleb says with a shrug. “I have no idea what to expect.” He sighs, joining their hands, “But I can assure you, once it is done, we will return home.”

Essek nods, a faint sadness in his eyes. “You always do, eventually.” He holds Caleb close, pressing kisses to his hair. “You won’t object to me casting Sending to check in every so often?”

“As long as you are Sending to me and not Jester,” Caleb says with a small laugh at Essek’s look of horror. He takes a deep breath, reluctantly sitting up. “I suppose I will have to return to our ship soon.”

“I suppose so,” Essek says, his arms sliding around Caleb’s shoulders. He sighs, “I do so hate to see you go.”

Caleb nods in agreement. “Think of it this way,” he says, turning to meet Essek’s gaze, taking both his hands and holding tight. “Tomorrow, we make history for Exandria.” He presses a gentle kiss to Essek’s lips, voice softening. There is a pressure in his chest that only grows the longer he stays with Essek. It speaks of promise, it speaks of hope, it speaks of a future that Caleb never intended to allow himself to have. “After that, we make history for ourselves.”

**Author's Note:**

> Had a smut idea that didn't fit into my current wip so here we go ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> As always, thoughts, kudos, comments etc. are always very much appreciated and if you ever wanna chat/throw about headcanons, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/MoonwalkingCrab) or [tumblr](http://moonwalkingcrab.tumblr.com/).


End file.
